I'm A Glutton For You
by ChocMochaLatte
Summary: This was killing him! Why on Tokyo's bloody earth did he agree to let him into this house! Oh yeah, right, because a gory Kaneki is an adorable Kaneki, and an adorable Kaneki makes his knees just go weak with that effortless, world-weary look he always gave Tsukiyama. Damn! He should've just let Touka carry him back to Antique.. Then he wouldn't have to suffer all these-! R&R


Category: Tokyo Ghoul fan-fic

Characters: Kaneki, Tsukiyama

Theme: Gluttony (Akujiki Musume much?), Desire, Love

Rating: M? R? Dunno~ ^^

* * *

 _ **Glutton For You**_

The violet haired man was restless, he could not sleep, not a wink. He got up, paced four steps before crashing down violently on his bed, head in his hands. _'God damn it!'_ He clutched his elbows hard, willing his blood to stop boiling, his nerves to stop fraying and electrocuting him. Alas, he only succeeded in making himself _even_ more bothered. "Aargh!"

This was killing him! Why on Tokyo's bloody earth did he agree to let _him_ into this house?! Oh yeah, right, because a **gory** Kaneki is an _adorable_ Kaneki, and an adorable Kaneki makes his knees just go _weak_ with that effortless, world-weary look he always gave Tsukiyama. Damn! He should've just let Touka carry him back to Antique.. Then he wouldn't have to suffer all this undeserved torture. Sighing, he trudged towards the tall window that provided a view of the sea, hoping to ease his exhausted mind with the fresh sea breeze. Or so he thought.

The half-French man stood near his window, taking a deep breath of the night air, Kaneki's fragrance drifted all the way from the room in the eastern wing and Tsukiyama went _feral._ A low growl escaped him before he knew, teeth growing sharper and Kaneki's scent – that _tantalising_ aroma – grew stronger.

When Tsukiyama regained his consciousness, he was clinging onto the chandelier that was situated directly on Kaneki's bed for tonight. Only that Kaneki was not on the bed. Panic flared in the violet-haired man for an instant before his ears picked up the low humming that came from the adjoined bathroom in the room. He visibly relaxed when he realised that Kaneki was just taking a bath. ' _Taking a bath_..' Tsukiyama knew not why the thought amused him but it did and he was smiling and was about to creep out the way he came when an utterly _shocking_ sight jarred him right onto the ceiling.

Kaneki sighed low in content as he came out from his revitalizing bath, how long has it been since he last had time to relax? He did not – could not – remember. Drying his hair lazily with the smaller towel as the larger one was tied around his waist, Kaneki walked towards the closet in the corner, fully aware of the pair of eyes watching him from above. He fought not to smirk in absolute victory.

Tsukiyama could only gulp at the _delicious_ sight laid for his eyes to feast on. Kaneki was every bit as perfect as he'd often imagined. Probably _way_ _ **better**_ than anything he could've ever imagined. Smooth, pale skin was unmarred, except for the scars he bore from his operation, wreathing along his lithe body like a pretty little daisy chain. Sinuous muscles dotted his limbs, soft yet inflexible.

Tsukiyama had always loved the paradox the boy seemed to be.

His eyes trailed down towards the dangerous curve of his hips, it's bones protruding rather seductively, shuddering as Kaneki unconsciously cocked his hip to the side, running a haphazard hand through the wet mess that was his hair, looking at the selection of clothes that lay in his mercy. He drew in a shaky breath when the boy selected one of the many unused boxers that lay in there and bent down to slide it along his graceful pair of legs, snapping the band of it lightly. If Tsukiyama wasn't aroused before, he was now _rock hard_ and _demanding_ for notice.

Kaneki smiled as he drew the boxers on, snapping the band for added measure, he always knew where and how to press Tsukiyama's buttons. He grabbed one of the sweatshirts that littered the lower compartment and paused, wondering if he should wear it or simply leave his body as it was. After all, it wasn't like he was going to stay in that for _long_. Maybe he should just put it on, he thought in saucy delight, just to make the violet-haired glutton feel a tiny bit agonised.

Tsukiyama fought not to groan in dismay as he watched the sweatshirt slither almost effortlessly to the boy's slender frame, hiding the mesmerising view from him. His body was taut with tension, conscious morale and impetuous desire warring with each other, almost losing his grip when Kaneki shook his head and the droplets of water hit his face, each one blasting Kaneki's scent like an air compressor switched on at full blast. Tsukiyama _couldn't_ control the groan that left his mouth.

Kaneki allowed himself one brief, smug grin before turning to face the source where he knew the sound came from, a masterful frown placed artfully on his more-often-than-not expressionless face.

"Tsukiyama." Came the boy's voice, colder than ice, clean and sharp as glass. The strength in his legs gave up and he crumpled down, hissing softly when the fabric of his pants chafed slightly at the damaged spot. He daren't look up, for fear of what he might see in those omniscient eyes, afraid of the accusations that may lie in those deep, gray orbs. "Tsukiyama, look at me when I speak." He jerked, body automatically shuddering at the tone, a command that reduced him to mere whimpers. Tsukiyama was powerless to disobey.

A good thing it was, because if Tsukiyama insisted on looking down, who knows what might _not_ have happened.

Kaneki loved it when he had Tsukiyama beneath him like this; the half-French man was always dominating when it came to their sex life, bordering on OCD even. There was always an order, some _way_ to do something. And Kaneki was growing _sick_ of it. He wanted Tsukiyama to just _let go_ , to simply _enjoy_ the moment. To pound into him relentlessly, without fearing that he would be wrecked. He _wanted_ to be _wrecked_ for God's sake _!_ Problem was that, Tsukiyama is such a paranoid (he wondered who was the culprit that worked wonders on the violet-haired man's self-esteem) that he always made sure Kaneki came before him. And he absolutely refused to release in him.

Now, of course Kaneki loved being cherished to this extent, but you've gotta admit, the kick comes from having someone release in you, knowing the fact that _you're_ the one who was responsible for all the come slithering out of you was an extremely high turn-on factor in Kaneki's respectable opinion. And he wondered _why_ Tsukiyama completely turns down his requests to just climax in him. It was getting fucking frustrating, like seriously.

And so, he decided to take matters into his own skilled hands today.

Tsukiyama brought his head up; eyes still cast downwards, body struggling to simply not disintegrate in front of the boy. "I thought you assuredme that I would be _safe_ tonight, in _your_ vicinity." Kaneki slowly trod around the already troubled man, yanking him by the collar unexpectedly and hauling him onto his bed with a stern "Sit up." Tsukiyama scrambled to comply with his orders, the white-haired boy refused to let his personal amusement tamper with his plans. Deciding to take it up another notch, Kaneki leant closer towards the currently cowering man, his position giving him added leverage against the normally pig-headed man, " _Answer me,_ _ **Tsukiyama**_ _._ "

He made sure to blow his breath temptingly against those lips that he knew _would_ be cold, longing for _**his**_ warmth.

Tsukiyama _detonated_.

Kaneki gulped a wanton moan down as the violet-haired man rose to his provocation, his pale wrists being imprisoned in a set of capably deft hands, waist held down by strong, lithe thighs that flexed against him sporadically, patience a mere taut string waiting to be chopped off. A feral " _Kaneki,_ " was choked out from the usually melodious tones of the half-French. He released a low whimper; one that he knew would tear Tsukiyama's logics and concerns apart.

Surprisingly, hips chafed against his own gently, rock-hard erection grinding onto his own half-hard one _deliciously_ , the friction itself almost enough to make him come. But the younger man persisted, today is the day where he _will_ have Tsukiyama.

 _ **Inside**_ of him.


End file.
